Wake up.
He came back to me. He doesn't have to say anything. He walks up and stands in front of me. I put my hands on his arms and I can feel the same path of his muscles, his shoulders.
He kisses me and it feels like coming home. His touch is familiar and it eased my pain. I breathe in his cologne, the scent that became so everyday, and it fills my lungs - it suffocates me and it's the only kind of air I need to survive. His face is in front of me and he smiles and my heart splits all over again, but his hand comes to my face and the sound of his voice speaking my name over the lips I've waited to kiss, it puts the pieces back together again. It feels like whole again, the way it was meant to. Whole and happy the way it used to when he told me he loved me for the first time, using the language of his hands. Whole and bursting with hope the way it did when I reached underneath the pillow and felt the cool touch of a metal ring that glinted in the dim light of the room. The solid warm of his body as he is standing in front of me, his breath on my face. His eyes speak volumes, more than the sound of his voice ever could, and he is fighting back tears, but it's a losing battle for the both of us. We are one as it was meant to be, written in time, the fates in our favor as if the last two years and six months had never occured, a distant memory in a fog in the back of our minds. We are one, wrapped in each others arms, holding on for dear life, together.
But god has a cruel sense of humor.
Because then I wake up.
And a million little pieces shatter on the ground at my feet.
He kisses me and it feels like coming home. His touch is familiar and it eased my pain. I breathe in his cologne, the scent that became so everyday, and it fills my lungs - it suffocates me and it's the only kind of air I need to survive. His face is in front of me and he smiles and my heart splits all over again, but his hand comes to my face and the sound of his voice speaking my name over the lips I've waited to kiss, it puts the pieces back together again. It feels like whole again, the way it was meant to. Whole and happy the way it used to when he told me he loved me for the first time, using the language of his hands. Whole and bursting with hope the way it did when I reached underneath the pillow and felt the cool touch of a metal ring that glinted in the dim light of the room. The solid warm of his body as he is standing in front of me, his breath on my face. His eyes speak volumes, more than the sound of his voice ever could, and he is fighting back tears, but it's a losing battle for the both of us. We are one as it was meant to be, written in time, the fates in our favor as if the last two years and six months had never occured, a distant memory in a fog in the back of our minds. We are one, wrapped in each others arms, holding on for dear life, together.
But god has a cruel sense of humor.
Because then I wake up.
And a million little pieces shatter on the ground at my feet.